


so it goes

by erzi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 09:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17301941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erzi/pseuds/erzi
Summary: Oikawa is always going to be there next to him, Iwaizumi thinks; he can't imagine a life where Oikawa isn't there to be petty and pretty around him.





	so it goes

“You should be more careful, sheesh,” Iwaizumi lightly scolds, peeling the cover from the bandage and carefully placing it on Oikawa's face. “This is what happens when you don't watch where you're going.”

Oikawa sniffles and holds back a whimper in favor of a petulant frown. “It's the tree's fault for being in my way,” he says.

“No, it's your fault for not looking up.”

“I didn't want to turn around and get tagged and lose! It's the tree's fault, and now my face really hurts!”

“It's your fault!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

One of the other children partaking in their game runs up to them. “The game's over, everyone got tagged,” he says breathlessly, and goes ignored by the arguing pair.

“We're in a park, dummy,” Iwaizumi says, “There's gonna be trees and rocks and things! You need to watch out for them! How do you even scrape your face on a tree? You're dumb!”

Oikawa falters, unable to retort, and only then notices their other playmate. Iwaizumi follows his line of sight and turns around.

“He ran into a _tree_?” the boy asks, laughter sputtering out of his lips as he doubles over. “He's stupid!”

A fire flares inside Iwaizumi and he throws himself at him to punch him, taking them both down, and Oikawa shrieks.

“Iwa-chan, _stop_ it! I'm _fine_!” He wraps his arms around the wriggling Iwaizumi, holding him back with all the strength a seven-year-old can muster. Iwaizumi's fist barely avoids the frightened boy's face.

“What's- what's your _problem_?” the boy asks, eyes wide.

Iwaizumi glares at him in such a way he crawls back some.

“It's like he's a princess and you're the knight,” the boy says, and Iwaizumi's anger dies down a bit, his eyebrows furrowing as he worms his way out of Oikawa's hold on him and turns to face him. His eyebrows furrow further, confused, when he sees how delighted Oikawa looks.

“You're right!” Oikawa gleefully agrees, linking his arm through Iwaizumi's.

“That wasn't a compliment,” the boy says, standing up shakily, doing his best to appear unfazed. “You're a big crybaby, like a girl, and you always need Iwaizumi-kun's help!”

Iwaizumi's fist curls in again, but Oikawa pulls him in the slightest, an unspoken _I_ _t's okay_. He relaxes his hand and lets out a long sigh.

“We're going home now,” he says. “Thanks for letting us play with you.” He walks around him, tempted to push him into the ground again, but keeping himself controlled with Oikawa there. Once they're a good distance away, Oikawa pokes him in the arm.

“What is it,” he flatly says, turning his head.

Oikawa gives him the brightest grin. “Thank you, Iwa-chan! You were really cool!”

He looks away. “It wasn’t anything,” he mumbles, annoyed at how his cheeks feel warm.

“Don't be shy! I think what he said was right except not mean like he wanted it to be. You're my knight! You even carry around band-aids with you, just for me!”

“That's because you hurt yourself a lot!” Iwaizumi says. “And then you cry a lot. So I have to be ready for that.”

Oikawa's grin turns bigger. “See, like a knight!” He gasps in sudden understanding. “You know what that means? You have to protect me forever now, so you're not allowed to leave me!” He laughs, pulling Iwaizumi closer, who unsuccessfully tries to shake him off.

“That means we're married now, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sing-songs.

“That's not how it works!” Iwaizumi says, wiggling his arm to get Oikawa off, but he is stubbornly attached to him.

Oikawa gives him a smug look. “Really? Then how does it work?”

Iwaizumi pauses. “I... I don't know,” he reluctantly admits.

“Well, I do, so trust me.” He huffs proudly. “We're married, and that's that.”

Iwaizumi grumbles. “Fine, but I don't want to wear the dress.”

“Neither of us have to, but I wanna go to my house and take a picture, okay? So we remember this.”

“Okay.” 

* * *

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, too loudly in this snug and stormy night.

Iwaizumi, a blanketed lump on the floor, lets out a tired hum, slowly drifting away from sleep.

He hears Oikawa get off his bed and crawl to Iwaizumi's side, shaking him. “Iwa-chan,” he says, quieter this time.

Iwaizumi throws the covers off him, hair more unkempt than usual. “What?” he croaks, the usual annoyed glare he'd throw at Oikawa more of a drowsy, confused scowl. "It's, like, three a.m."

“I was digging through a box of old things before you came over,” he whispers, “and I found a photo we took like six years ago, when we said we got married.”

Iwaizumi blinks owlishly. “Gross,” he says. “Why would I marry you?”

“Right,” Oikawa says. “Gross.”

A sharp strike of lightning, a sudden clap of thunder, and the room glows and rattles. 

* * *

“Does _anyone_ know where that idiot is?!” Iwaizumi yells over the sound of volleyballs hitting the gym floor, and no one needs to ask who he means.

“I think I saw him with a group of girls,” someone calls out.

Iwaizumi groans, turning his face to the ceiling.

“Do you want me to go find him?” someone else suggests.

“It's fine,” the coach says. “Use Kageyama for the time being.”

Iwaizumi turns his head back down upon hearing that, scoffing sardonically.

They play as normal, but an unnameable discomfort lurks in his chest, a hole next to him even though Kageyama is standing there. His sets are impeccable, perfectly made for his spiking, yet it doesn't feel right. They're not the sets he wants to hit.

But his side wins, of course.

Afterward, friendly calls of 'Good game' are exchanged, the net and volleyballs are put away, friends meet up to walk home together, and Iwaizumi is alone. He glances about the empty gym, noting how different it is when it's not in use, when the sudden squeak of someone's shoes make him look up. He immediately glowers.

“About time,” he says, smacking the smile off Oikawa when he walks up to him.

“Iwa-chan, don't hit me!” Oikawa whines, rubbing his head.

“Don't be so ridiculously late!” He crosses his arms, scowling. “Do you have any idea how terrible it makes you look when, as the captain, you skip?”

“Some girls invited me out for ice cream,” he says. “I couldn't refuse-”

“Yes, yes you could! You don't have an obligation to them, but you're part of a team here. When you're not at practice, you're not letting us be as great as we could be. You can't do that to us.” He purses his lips. “To me.”

The air seems to freeze around Oikawa. “You have Kageyama,” he says in a low voice.

He pokes him pointedly in the chest. “And we also have _you_. God damn it, Oikawa, why don't you actually think of yourself the way you act?”

He's silent, and deathly still.

Iwaizumi exhales sharply and drops his arm. “You're not skipping ever again. Is that understood?”

Oikawa nods his head so slightly it's almost imperceptible.

“And when you start beating yourself up again, you come talk to me.”

Another nod, accompanied by a tiny smile.

“Good. Let's go home, now. It's a good thing the coaches are in their offices; if they saw you right now, I think they'd explode.”

They leave in silence and don't talk for most of the way home, until Oikawa suddenly says, “You know, sometimes I wonder why I'm captain instead of you.”

“Not this self-deprecating shit again, Oikawa.”

He waves his hands defensively. “No, no it's not, just hear me out! You're very good at keeping people in check, and you're... oddly inspirational. You look – and are – sort of mean, but it's the kind of mean that suits a captain. Plus you're scary and intimidating, so I don't think I'd ever want to make you angry.”

“You _do_ make me angry.”

Oikawa grins. “No, I don't,” he says confidently.

“Uh, no, you most certainly do.”

“But I don't actually count, see.” He winks.

Iwaizumi laughs, somehow. “You tell yourself that.”

“I am, and I'm even telling you!”

They lapse into silence again, a more comfortable sort of silence where words aren't needed, rather than being difficult to say.

They are at the foot of Oikawa's house when he says, “One of the girls I was with said she was surprised you weren't with me.”

Iwaizumi frowns. “How so?”

“She said we're basically married so it was weird not seeing us together.”

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to say something despite having nothing to, unable to come up with a reply to an innocent enough observation, yet said at such an odd time. His tongue suddenly feels too large and awkward for his mouth and for a brief moment thinks of something he could do with it, and his cheeks get too hot too quick. _Why did I think that. Why did I think th-_

“It made me laugh because it reminded me of when we were little and decided we were married, remember?” Oikawa looks skyward fondly in his reminiscence, oblivious to Iwaizumi's fluster. “And then you nulled it when we were twelve or thirteen, I forget.” His gaze turns down again but doesn't meet Iwaizumi's. “So she wasn't too wrong, I guess. But I just thought that was funny. See you tomorrow, Iwa-chan.” He walks up to his door and Iwaizumi finds his eyes straying down to Oikawa's legs and backside, noting how his muscles work so intricately, and despite him yelling privately at himself to do otherwise, he can't look away.

Iwaizumi is still stuck to his spot after Oikawa closes the door, his body too heavy to move, his thoughts racing about his head attempting to explain what just had happened, and why, despite Oikawa being a constant by him the past nine years, he now looked so different. 

* * *

Iwaizumi suddenly revels in every word, every glance, every innocuous touch from Oikawa. They occur no more or less than before, with no different sort of implication, but now, instead of dismissing them as Oikawa's normal behavior, he is enough of a fool to allow himself to think they might mean something else. He wonders if he's losing his mind.

"Iwa-chan, is my math right here?" Oikawa will ask, leaning into Iwaizumi's space, into _him_ , and slide over his notebook with too much force.

"Nice spike!" he'll say, smacking him on the back, leaving a fiery imprint of his hand that burns even after it fades.

"Slow _down_ , Iwa-chan!" he whines when Iwaizumi walks faster than he, and reaches for his wrist to keep him close.

Oikawa is in everything.

Iwaizumi's center starts to orbit closer to Oikawa. Perhaps this is what girls have noticed, those fluttered eyes and easy smiles. Oikawa has a pull, just like gravity, and Iwaizumi is falling, falling, falling.

He's definitely losing his mind. 

* * *

 _Why I shouldn't like Oikawa_ , Iwaizumi writes, his pencil a scratching thing on the creamy white page of his notebook.

He lists his reasons:

  * _Terrible personality – supported by many others_
  * _Can be kinda fake_
  * _Annoying_
  * _Annoyingly aware of his good looks_
  * _Taller than me_  



He pauses there. That seems to cover it all.

Then, with a slightly shaking hand, he draws a line next to this, and writes, _Why I like Oikawa_.

His reasons:

  * _He's there for me_
  * _He knows me – we go way back_
  * _His terrible personality is due to deeper, nastier things – working on fixing that_
  * _Annoyingly_ _good-looking_
  * _Pushes himself harder than anyone – can't not admire his drive_  



He looks at this and huffs. It's the same number of reasons as the opposite column.

His phone buzzes. He reaches for it and sees it's a message from Oikawa himself. _Always had a talent for wedging himself into a conversation_ , Iwaizumi thinks with a fond smirk.

Oikawa wants to know if he has time to hang out; it's the last day of vacation before their first year of high school, and it should be memorable, he says, adding a string of emoji after.

Iwaizumi texts back a single word, shoves the notebook somewhere unfindable, and leaves his house for one final memorable day with the best person possible.

* * *

Striking down a volleyball, sent in a perfect arc to him by Oikawa, feels as incredible as always, works as flawlessly as ever in this next stage of their life. They win, and they lose, but the numbers _1_ and _4_ remain emblazoned proudly on their backs. They are a pair in the court, and as inseparable – bickering and all – outside it. But there, they are not at the extent Iwaizumi wishes they could be. As well as Iwaizumi knows him, he can't seem to break through the girls that flock to Oikawa's side, nor can he decipher the closeness that he shares with Oikawa. Still, he can't.

But he isn't in any particular hurry. Oikawa is always going to be there next to him, Iwaizumi thinks; he can't imagine a life where Oikawa isn't there to be petty and pretty around him.

He has time yet.

Or so he tells himself every day, whether alone or inevitably with Oikawa, whether in class or in a game, whether dreaming or awake. But as the games grow intense and the days until graduation dwindle down, Iwaizumi realizes time is not so merciful as to wait for him to be ready. The action rests in him.

The problem is, would the reaction to confessing be as equal as predicted? Or would the laws of physics break, and so too him and Oikawa?

He's been sitting in class with a pursed mouth for so long it has started to hurt.

 _It might be now or never_ , Iwaizumi thinks, staring at his textbook but unseeing its meaning. All he can picture in the crooked spaces between characters is the crooked path that has led him here, his last year of high school, his infinite year of a friendship with Oikawa, and a certain number of years he's never bothered to count where he's liked him. Then the path meanders. They might go to different universities, after all. They would keep contact – _Obviously_ , Oikawa had said, with a flourish of the hand – but a text sent to his phone is not the same as Oikawa's voice lilting in his ear.

Iwaizumi nods to himself, securing certainty. _Now or never._

He decides to tell him after practice, when they walk home together. With no distractions. Just the two of them, heart-to-heart.

That same heart of his starts beating harder, and harder yet when he is exerting himself at the court a few hours later.

"I need- a drink- of water," he says between gasps, taking a small break. He's tossed a water bottle and he sits on the bench, drinking greedily, ignoring his sweat dripping on the gym floor.

"Today hasn't even been that intensive," Oikawa says, sitting next to him. The sweat and flush on his skin gives him a healthy glow. "Are you getting old, Iwa-chan?"

He doesn't reply; he doesn't think he can, with his heart working double time from the exercise and expectations thereafter.

Oikawa leans on his knees, eyeing Iwaizumi with a smug smile. "Is that a yes?"

Iwaizumi flips the water bottle around and squirts Oikawa with it, who yelps.

"Argh! You suck, Iwa-chan! You suck!"

Iwaizumi pops the bottle closed and stands, renewed and refreshed. "Tell me that again in the court," he says. "Let's see if that's true."

Oikawa's childish pout turns into a determined grin. "Let's."

He doesn't suck. He's great. Because Oikawa is there. Of course.

Practice ends as any other. Iwaizumi belatedly realizes that it might not have been such a good idea to tell Oikawa how he feels after it. He's sweaty and a little tired, not exactly setting the right mood. He rubs his calves idly, wondering if maybe he can wait until tomorrow morning, but the little unsettled lurch his stomach does at the thought of putting this off if by a day tells him he shouldn't.

Someone slaps him right in the middle of his back, where – if this was an official match – that turquoise _4_ would go. It's Oikawa, unsurprisingly.

"Good game," he says, with an honest smile, the one he so rarely shares and that Iwaizumi holds on to when he does. "Are you ready to go?"

Their walks home are tradition for them both.

Iwaizumi's inhale is deep and lengthy. He straightens. "Yeah. Let me just get my things."

With each item packed, he mentally assures himself. In goes the water bottle ( _I'll regret not being honest with him if I don't tell him now_ ), the practice uniform ( _He won't be rude about it; he can be a jerk, but he knows when to be considerate_ ), the shoes ( _I'll tell him and that'll be that. I'll live with whatever his answer is_ ).

He swings his bag over his shoulder. "Right, let's go."

The reds and oranges of the sunset soften the streets and complement the colors of the practice uniform, which Oikawa did not change out of. The fading sunlight glows on his hair, a copper crown, and standing as tall as he is, he truly looks like the king some have claimed him to be.

Awed, Iwaizumi stops walking.

Oikawa, noticing, does as well. "What?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

 _Shit_ , Iwaizumi thinks. He'd wanted to do this on his own terms, not because Oikawa dazzled him enough he forgot how to move.

Oikawa smirks and prods him in the chest. "So you're so old you can't move _or_ talk anymore?" he teases. "Goodness, Iwa-chan, you're aging much quicker than-"

Iwaizumi's hand shoots out and wraps around Oikawa's. "Stop talking, stupid."

Oikawa blinks at him. Down at their hands.

Iwaizumi does the same. That's not how he'd meant to start, either.

Well. Whatever. He's here now.

"So," he starts, grip around Oikawa tightening slightly.

"...so?" Oikawa prompts two heart beats later, when Iwaizumi has yet to say anything else because he doesn't know how to bring everything together.

"So," he says, "I wanted to tell you something."

"Okay," Oikawa says, slowly, tilting his head as if Iwaizumi is something curious and new.

He swallows. "You're annoying as hell, and smugger than that somehow." The instant he says this, he winces.

Oikawa's face falls. "Wow, Iwa-chan," he says, sarcastic, "how inspired."

"But," Iwaizumi continues, louder, "for all your bad qualities, you have a lot of good. You bust your ass for anything you set your sights on. You're loyal to those you genuinely like. You're smart and talented and deserve more than you get." He brings Oikawa in closer to him; Oikawa stumbles a bit. "You're very important to me. You always have been. So I don't think it's very surprising that I..."

Oikawa's eyes are wide and pin him in such a way his mind goes briefly blank.

"That you what?" he prompts, uncharacteristically demure.

"That I ended up liking you," he finishes, mouth moving of its own, as he's floating in the bright chocolate galaxies that are Oikawa's eyes.

Now, the response. Iwaizumi is breathless, still locking eyes with Oikawa, his eyes as round as they can go, his hand slack in Iwaizumi's. Time stretches on, measured in heartbeats: one – two – three – four.

And he grins, brighter yet. "Who's stupid now?" he says, which is not anything Iwaizumi prepared for, much less how he slips his hand out of Iwaizumi's hold to wrap his arms around his neck, pulling him in as far as his gravity will let him, pulling him into a kiss that tastes of every day they have been by each other's side, a kiss that expands like the universe.

They part at the same time. They're both speckled in pink.

"That was unexpected," Iwaizumi mumbles, but he can't help a smile.

"You're telling me. I can't believe you confessed to me after practice! This was hardly a romantic setting."

"You're smiling, too, dumbass."

Oikawa harrumphs, cheekily turning his face aside.

"I wanted to do it as early as possible," Iwaizumi explains. "I didn't want to put it off and have any regrets by waiting too long. And I wanted time to let things be... okay again, in case it went wrong." He flicks Oikawa's forehead, who lets out a surprised _Ow_ and faces him again. "I didn't think you'd like me back."

Oikawa unwinds his hands and flicks Iwaizumi back. "How could I not? I've been practically throwing myself at you for, like, _years_ , you know. You're a bit slow on the uptake."

"I thought you were just being you!"

He sticks his tongue out. "That, too."

Iwaizumi sighs, long-suffering, but he doesn't really mean it. He reaches for Oikawa's hand. "Let's go home."

Oikawa happily obliges. "Mm-hmm."

Hands twined, walking toward the sunset seems not like approaching an unknowable future, but a promise of a new day to come.

**Author's Note:**

> this was in my drafts unfinished for 4.5 yrs lmao so i finished it for today, 01/04, merry iwaois yall


End file.
